Smith

by Wade Adrian

  “And I’ll make sure he doesn’t stab you. You’re welcome.” Morei wandered off, seemingly looking at the shelves. He was never more than a few paces from Timms.

  “Mind if we have a look around?” Smith raised his voice a bit. “I won’t tough anything without asking.”

  “Mmm?” Timm’s barely looked away from the shelves. “If you must.”

  “Just so you’re aware…” Smith looked over the shelves himself. Countless topics, most of which didn’t matter to him. “There are five more of us wandering around outside. If they find their way in, there’s no need to panic.”

  “I saw them. I would have ignored three of you.”

  Books were stacked everywhere, but a bit of the old stock from the pharmacy’s back room remained piled up against the back wall… with more books on top of it. Useful stuff like gauze and iodine, if the labels on the boxes were to be believed. “Mind if I poke through this stuff? For Rawlins, our medic. He’d be all over this.”

  Timms shook his head. “Old junk. Have at it. Carry it outside if you want to do me a favor.” Morei was still shadowing the little man. Timms noticed. “And what can I help you with?”

  “It would be a big help to me if you weren’t crazy.”

  Timms pushed his glasses up onto the bridge of his nose. “I doubt any truly insane person is aware of their condition, so no promises, but I’ll do my best.”

  “Super.”

  Smith rolled his eyes.

  Most of the old boxes were squishing under the weight of books and other boxes above them. It took a few moments to move things off to check the contents of each.

  Medical supplies. Medical supplies… well, someone more versed probably had more specific terms, but he knew steel, not flesh. It all looked to be a similar level of junk in disrepair to him.

  At least until he got to the last few boxes at the bottom. Those had things more in line with a cash register impulse buy, or random stuff for people to look at. He stuffed a box of old lighters into his pockets. The flints alone were worth the trouble. One colorful box that caught his eye had brand new lego sets inside. He tilted his head as he looked down at it.

  Clearly junk anymore… but Rawlins ledger had said there were twelve children under the age of fifteen in the town. Bishop might not think much of celebrating holidays, but some of those kids would be old enough to remember they once had.

  He opened his personal bag and dug out the most pristine sets from the box. He wouldn’t have anyone else carry something so frivolous… but he wanted to, just the same. He couldn’t imagine being a child in this world. Things like these were a happy moment from his own past.

  He didn’t need Bishop trying to talk him out of it, though. He’d keep them secret for now.

  Smith didn’t find anything else of use or value. At least, not to him. Packing up the boxes and shuffling them towards the door with his feet was no great chore.

  The real point of all of this was spending time around Timms. Asking him a few inane questions now and then. Getting him talking. Interacting.

  Smith wanted him to be human again. He’d spent too long as a scurrying rat. Bishop wouldn’t be interested in a rat. He might be interested in a librarian, though.

  “So, about the bare necessities…”

  Timms shook his head, frustration growing in his voice. “I told you, all of these are essential. We’ll work out a library card system if you must borrow some of them.”

  “Great idea. But we’ll need to transport them first.”

  Timms narrowed his eyes a bit. “What?”

  “Look, I’m done being coy. Simply do not have the time. We have a town. Sixty four strong, according to our medic who has it all worked up for genetic viability or some such nonsense. We could use your help. Your knowledge. And all this.” Smith waved, his arm taking in the stacks of books around the room. “Such a wealth of information would undoubtedly help us.”

  Timm’s stared at Smith, his eyes hidden behind light reflecting off his glasses.

  “And, I might add,” Smith continued, unabated, “we are better set up to protect these than you are out here alone. It might take a few trips to move them all, but if you picked what you think is most essential to fit into, say, a shopping cart or two, we could get those back on this trip. Along with you.” Smith stood tall, finding pride in the citizenship he had only just received himself. “It’s a town. People work together. Food, water, shelter, safety. I know you have some of those things already, but what you don’t have is neighbors. We’re social beings, Timms. Being out here alone can’t be good for you.”

  “I… will think about it.” Timms looked away, his eyes returning to his shelves.

  “Right, you do that. I’ll just carry some of this stuff outside. Morei?”

  The scout’s face scrunched up in irritation, but he wandered over and picked up a box. His voice was barely a whisper. “Bet the dude bails as soon as we’re out of sight.”

  “To where?”

  “Anywhere.”

  Smith hoisted a box and walked out into the main room of the pharmacy. “Then you’ll be out nothing, and you’ll get to tell me I was wrong.”

  “Aw, I wouldn’t do that. It’s petty. I’m right though.”

  “Of course.”

  The hunter opened the door for them. “This important stuff?”

  “Not remotely.” Smith shrugged as best he could loaded down.

  Morei sighed a bit. “We’re taking out the trash.”

  The hunter’s head tilted a bit. “Oh. Well, right neighborly of you.”

  “Don’t encourage him.”

  There wasn’t really a dumpster or anything… so Smith set his box inside one of the old cars. Morei did the same, shaking his head all the while.

  Smith couldn’t see anyone when he opened the door to the back room again, but it didn’t take long to hear him moving around. Timms was still there. Smith glanced aside at Morei. The scout, being his usual mature and measured self, flipped Smith off.

  There weren’t that many boxes to move, and opening and closing car doors made noise, but that was more or less what Smith intended.

  Yelling might have spooked Timms.

  Baron showed up first, his only other hunter with him. “Can’t say I see the point in that. Maybe if we put it in neutral… and had an ox or two.”

  Smith leaned on the hood of the car. “Just trying to get your attention. We found a local. He’s inside. Didn’t want him bolting into the woods.”

  “Uh-huh.” Baron raised a hand to shade his eyes as he glanced at the pharmacy. “Interesting, but that’s not what we’re here for. You fill out those lists?”

  Smith nodded. “And then some.”

  “Good.”

  Morei shut the car door and sat on the hood. “Smith thinks we should take the guy back. He used to run a book store. Has a ton of them left. Organized. Well spoken. Bit squirrelly.”

  “Squirrelly, huh?”

  Smith shook his head. “Guy has been alone this whole time. Yeah, he’s not super trusting. Apparently people do come by sometimes, steal, burn, etc. He cleans up after them. Tries to keep the place in order.”

  Baron’s eyebrow crept up. “An effort in futility. That doesn’t exactly help his case.”

  “He’s trying to preserve the only world he knows. Sounds like a good thing to me. Strength of will that could be put to better use.”

  Baron let out a slow breath. “Not for me to say.”

  “Right now, it is. I say we vote on it like civilized people.”

  Baron chucked a bit. It sounded weird with his gravely voice. “Afraid democracy isn’t so big around here these days. Even if we take him back, Bishop will need to let him in. But I guess I’ll consider this you sponsoring him.”

  Smith nodded. “Yeah. That.”

  “Okay. We’ll hash it out later. See if there’s any opposition. For now, lets start working on how we’re going to transport your finds.” He leaned over, looking down into the
cart from the hardware store. The tarp had been opened, and remained open to the sky.

  The hunter from inside came out with the pickaxe, which he replaced in the cart less than gently.

  Baron’s eyebrow crept up as he knelt down and picked up a solar light displaced by the pickaxed. “Guess you did pretty well.”

  Smith nodded. “Got the medical stuff Rawlins wanted inside, too.”

  “Good trip, then.”

  Morei hopped off the hood. “Maybe even a good enough run Rawlins won’t bitch about twisting his ankle again.”

  “Don’t disrespect the only guy that can patch you up, kid.” Baron shook his head a bit. “Besides, he’ll still complain about it. He always does.”

  Smith caught himself smiling a bit. It was absolutely disrespectful, but it was nice to have some banter anyway. Just friends talking. It was nice.

  The air of calm and camaraderie was broken by the sound of gunfire.

  28

  The hunters and scout had their weapons ready before Smith could even get inside his coat to find his own gun.

  It did sort of confirm that the hunters had firearms, despite them not being visible on their persons. They could hunt without them, so bullets were probably reserved for threats to life and limb.

  Baron swept his hand toward the ground as he ducked low next to the car. Everyone else joined him without a moments hesitation… well except for Smith. He followed, but he was far and away the last one to do so.

  Seemed like he had missed some important stuff.

  Baron was holding a massive revolver. The thing looked like it had enough steel involved to make four guns like Smith’s. “That was too close to be random. Ross, or one of his.”

  Morei’s demeanor had shifted entirely. He was all business now. “Nothing of the sort while I was waiting here. They might have run across a predator.”

  Baron hazarded a swift glance, standing up tall enough to look through the car windows for a brief moment. “Not many daytime predators in the area. A bear, maybe, but they should know better than to shoot at one.”

  “Panic fire?”

  “Mmm.” Baron nodded.

  Smith tilted his head. “Why not shoot at bears?”

  “Because chances are you’ll just piss it off. Especially with the weapons we carry.”

  Three more retorts echoed through the buildings, one after the other.

  “Morei,” Baron turned his head back towards them. “Keep an eye on Smith. We’ll go check it out.”

  The scout shook his head. “No way, you don’t know what’s happening out there.”

  “Which is why we need to be cautious. Smith isn’t ready for this sort of thing, but he’s important. Keep him safe. We’ll be back when we know more.”

  Morei frowned, but he nodded.

  Smith shook his head. “I want to help.”

  Baron stayed low as he inched toward the front of the car. “You help by staying out of sight.” He waved and the pair of hunters followed him as he broke and ran to the next car up the street, and then the next.

  Morei cursed under his breath. “Come on, Smith. Lets get back inside. At least squirrelly guy picked a good place to hide.”

  They snuck back in through the glass door to the pharmacy, Morei pausing to lock it before he waved for the back room.

  “Think I saw a ladder back there, might have roof access for me to keep an eye on things.”

  Smith nodded.

  Timms was still wandering around the shelves, though he looked up when they came in. “Problem?”

  Morei scoffed as he made for the ladder. It had junk piled in front of it, and he set to moving it aside. “Gunshots. We have people checking it out. Keep your head down.”

  Timms frowned. “That’s odd. I didn’t expect anyone for another week.”

  Morei paused, a box in his hands. “Expect?” He dropped the box of books. “Who are you expecting?” His hand fell to the holster at his side as he stalked toward Timms.

  Smith got in the way, his hand landing on Morei’s and keeping the weapon holstered. His eyes were on the smaller man. “Explain.”

  Timms back away a few paces. “I told you, they come sometimes.”

  “Yeah?” Morei scoffed. “How often?”

  “About a ten week cycle. They wander through, eat whatever they can pick up, and go on their way. They’re mindless, like beasts.”

  Smith frowned. “And, what, they’re here early?”

  Timms nodded. “Quite early. Some other stop on their circuit must have come up empty.”

  Smith turned his eyes to Morei. “We would have run into them even if Timms wasn’t here.”

  The scout shook his head, but let go of his gun. “Fine. But we should get out there, help them.”

  “Baron told us to stay.”

  “Baron didn’t know what he was getting himself in to.” Morei shoved Smith aside. “How many of these people come by?”

  The bookkeeper ducked behind a shelf, only his eyes stick out around it. “Usually no more than ten or twelve.”

  Even if Ross and Baron grouped up, they would have half the number. “Damn.” Smith pulled his own gun and turned for the door.

  Morei stopped him. “Nope. We have orders. Lets get to the roof and see if we can scout this out. If Baron isn’t there yet, I’ll try to make calls to bring them back. Unfortunately the calls are pretty generic. He isn’t expecting any, so he won’t know what I mean till he comes back.”

  “Kinda doubt he can hear you whistling over gunfire.”

  “One problem at a time.” Morei kicked a few more of the boxes out of the way and clambered up the ladder. The lever on the door groaned as it shifted. Daylight poured in when he threw the trap door open and climbed out.

  Smith followed, shading his eyes as best he could. Walking inside was one thing, this drastic change almost gave him a headache.

  “Watch your step.”

  Smith blinked a few times as his head cleared the trap door. The roof was covered in old leaves and branches. Most of them were piled up near the raised edges, but there were plenty near the center. He climbed out carefully.

  Morei was low against the wall facing the street. His head was just popping up over the edge, his sidearm already drawn.

  Smith crept over, trying to stay low. He kicked some leaves out of the way, uncovering more leaves that were black and looked wet. He decided against getting as close to the wall. “How’s it look?”

  “Clear.” Morei shrugged a shoulder before raising his empty hand and making a series of short whistles.

  They were actually quite loud, this close. Smith’s ears rang a bit. “Gah. How did you do that?”

  “Trade secret.” Morei’s eyes never wavered from the street.

  “Umm… gentlemen?” Timm’s voice was a surprise.

  Smith turned to see the shaggy head and glasses sticking out of the roof access hatch. “Yeah?”

  “We should probably hide.”

  Morei scoffed. “Seems to be your answer to everything.”

  “They’ve never found me in the electrical access hatch. I have a few other places, too.”

  Smith shook his head. “Thanks, but no. We don’t know what’s going on. Might still be nothing.”

  Morei’s voice was practically a whisper. “Four bullets of nothing.”

  “Besides, we should be fine up here, right? The only access is from inside. Put some boxes back in front of the ladder and close the hatch.”

  The scout’s eyes wavered for a moment now, landing on Timms. “If you latch it, I’m going to climb down and kick your ass.”

  Timms vanished down the ladder, but left the door open.

  Morei shook his head. “Coward.”

  Smith squinted, but he couldn’t see anything happening in that direction at all. “We’re not exactly running out there either.”

  “We were ordered not to. No one ordered him to hide in a hole.”

  Rhythmic tacking sounds came from the ladder.
<
br />   Smith cut his eyes back to the side, unsure what to make of it. “Well, I got nothin’.”

  Morei grunted.

  “Perhaps this will help?”

  Smith turned to see Timms at the top of the ladder again, a scoped rifle in his hands. He blinked a few times. “Where did you get that?”

  “I’ve had it for ages. I keep it hidden away. What use is it against a dozen of them? Just let them know I’m here.” He handed the rifle to Smith and set a small green box on the roof.

  Smith handed the rifle off to Morei. The scout looked it over with wide eyes. “Huh.”

  The box said the rounds were .22 caliber. Not exactly powerful, but they could do plenty of damage to a crazy person or an animal. Again, probably not to a bear. Or even to a coyote, really. Not unless it was pretty close.

  Morei flipped the rifle up onto the side of the building and looked down the scope. He fiddled with the knobs on the side a bit. In Smith’s limited experience, it seemed like he might be doing more harm than good. “There we go…”

  “You see something?”

  “Yeah. Leaves.” Morei leaned back a bit, letting the rifle slack. He popped the little square magazine out of the bottom. “Give me some of those.” Smith took a handful of bullets out of the box and handed them over. He didn’t know how many it held.

  Timms held up a hand. “I haven’t actually cleaned that… well, ever. It might be dangerous.”

  “What’s out there might be more dangerous. This thing is a big pea shooter, probably some kids target rifle, but it’s got range on my nine and a nifty scope.”

  Timms’ frowned a bit. “I don’t know. It shoots little bullets.”

  “Man, I do not have time to give you a primer on ballistics. Don’t you have a book on that?” The bullets seemed to all fit. Probably not enough.

  “Several. It’s kind of a dire topic, though.”

  Morei shook his head as he popped the clip back in and set the rifle up on the wall, his eye to the scope. “Maybe you do need to live inside the walls.”

  Smith squinted out at the trees once more. “I still can’t see a thing.”

  “Movement.” Morei shifted a bit, propping the rifle butt against his shoulder, his trigger finger straight against the guard. “Don’t have eyes yet.”